An hour later Curran, Adora, and I walked into the Order of Merciful Aid. It looked nothing like I remembered. The gray paint was gone. The carpet, too. The hallway was painted light beige; the floor was sealed concrete. Even Maxine’s desk had undergone a face-lift—brand-new and flanked by a luxuriously ergonomic office chair. The old prim secretary smiled at me.

“We’re here to see the knight-protector.”

“Go ahead,” she said.

We walked into Nick’s office. When Ted Moynohan occupied it, it was a dark cave decorated with all things Texas. Gone were the burgundy drapes, the massive desk of cherry wood and samples of barbed wire on the wall. Now it was a wide, well-lit space, with plants and pale, thin curtains. Nick sat behind a desk of blond wood. He raised his head as we approached.

“Yes?”

“This is Knight-protector Nick Feldman,” I told Adora. “He runs the Order’s Atlanta chapter. Do you know what the Order is?”

She nodded.

“Nick worked undercover in Hugh d’Ambray’s inner circle for two years.”

I turned to Nick.

“This is Adora. She is sahanu.”

He sat up straighter. The name made an impression.

I had thought the best way was to take baby steps. I was wrong. If I didn’t clear things up now, she would keep sacrificing herself for my sake.

I took a deep breath and looked Nick in the eye. “I’d like you to explain to her exactly what my father and I are.”

Nick smiled, and there was not a shred of humor in that grin.

CHAPTER

15

NICK TALKED FOR almost forty-five minutes. Sometimes I added things to clarify, sometimes Curran did. To say Nick didn’t sugarcoat things would be an understatement. In his two years undercover, he had been forced to see things and do things that violated the very core of who he was. He let his hate flow.

Adora sat quietly through it all, her face stoic. Sometimes she looked to me or Curran for confirmation. When he finished, she said, “Thank you.” I couldn’t tell if any of it made an impact.

Nick fixed me with his stare. “The Pack burned Nimrod’s base.”

The Order always had good intel. “Yes.”

“He isn’t going to let it slide.”

“No.”

“When and where?” Nick asked.

“At the Keep,” Curran said. “Direct assault with overwhelming force, as soon as the new magic wave hits. In daylight.”

“Blood is best viewed in daylight,” Nick said.

I nodded. “He wants the shapeshifters to see their relatives die in gory detail.”

“We could use help,” Curran said.

“We’ll be there,” Nick said. “As an independent force.”

“Thank you,” I told him.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” he said.

“I don’t need you to like me, Nick. I need you to show up at the battlefield and kill as many of my father’s troops as you can.”

Nick smiled.